Beauty is stripped,
she is carried away;
her ladies-in-waiting moan
like the sound of doves,
and beat their breasts.

Beware, I am against you.
This is the declaration of the Lord of Hosts.
I will make your chariots go up in smoke
and the sword will devour your young lions.
I will cut off your prey from the earth,
and the sound of your messengers
will never be heard again.